Misadventures: A Collections of Shorts
by wintryone
Summary: Four short stories create the bridge between "The Misadventures of Mari Hawke: Redux," & "Between Heaven and the Abyss." The continuing story of Mari, Fenris and their children, Melody & Farrell. Includes: Time Alone, Home is Where the Heart Is, Family Secrets and Sometimes Magic Happens. The last story, "Sometimes Magic Happens" is the prequel to "Between Heaven and the Abyss."
1. Time Alone

_A/N This collection is dedicated to Ekocentric, who has created two beautiful pieces of artwork for The Misadventures of Mari Hawke: Redux, and for Between Heaven and the Abyss._

_The stories are each in a separate chapter, and in chronological order. Included are: Time Alone, Home is Where the Heart Is, Family Secrets and Sometimes Magic Happens._

**TIME ALONE**

Hawke sat with her sister on a bench in the garden as Bethany nursed her new infant son, Malcolm Sebastian Vael. It was a lovely spring morning, and the azaleas and hyacinth were in full bloom, attracting the first butterflies of the season.

"Must you leave, Sister?" asked Bethany for the third or fourth time in as many days.

Hawke reached over and gently sifted her fingers through the shock of black hair on her nephew's head. "It's only for a few months," Hawke replied. "We'll be back for your Wintersend party."

"I almost wish I could go with you," Bethany said with a sigh. "Will you go to Lothering while you're in Ferelden?"

"Perhaps," said Hawke. "We'll see how the twins take to traveling."

"I'm going to miss them so," Bethany said as she lifted Malcolm to her shoulder and rubbed his back.

"We really appreciate that you're minding the twins while we, um…" Hawke hesitated… "prepare for the trip."

Bethany laughed. "No need to pretend with me, Sister," she said. "Time alone with your husband? No excuse necessary."

Hawke smiled dreamily as she took Malcolm from Bethany and hugged the baby close to her. "Little ones are wonderful…"

"But so is privacy," finished Bethany for her, laughing still.

* * *

It should have been easy enough. With four days all on their own, she and Fenris would travel to the hunting lodge, spend a few nights there alone, and then return to Starkhaven. Upon their return they would board the barge that would take them east on the Minanter River with Varric and the twins.

Simple plan.

How many times had they taken this footpath deep into the forest at the foot of the mountains? Countless times, that was how many. And how many times had bandits, raiders or even wolves waylaid them?

Never, that was how many.

This trip, however, appeared to be different. Only two hours outside of Starkhaven, Fenris had pulled her off to the side of the road under the cover of tall beech trees. His breath tickled her ear as he said, "Someone is approaching."

"Hide, stand or fight?" whispered Hawke.

Fenris peered through the trees to the road ahead. "Four, no five men. Armed and Armored."

Hawke glanced around her. "These trees provide no real cover," she said. "We'll try _stand_, and switch to _fight_ if necessary."

Fenris nodded and they returned to the road and resumed walking at a casual pace.

"Well, what do we have here, boys?" asked the tall, gaped-tooth leader.

Hawke turned to Fenris. "Stand might not work," she said indifferently.

Fenris crossed his arms over his chest and questioned, "Give them a chance, perhaps?"

Hawke sighed. "Very well," she agreed, and then turned to the apparent leader. "What you _have_ are two simple travelers who are not looking for any trouble."

The man took a step forward, and Hawke's nose wrinkled in distaste. He smelled like a combination of cheap whiskey and sewer. Wonderful.

"You're a pretty little thing," he said leering at her. "Whatcha doin' with a knife-eared freak like him?" He gestured a meaty paw at Fenris. "You need rescuing, girlie?" The men behind him laughed.

"Yeah, let's _rescue_ her, Caster," said one of the followers, and there was no humor in is voice at all.

Hawke heard the low growl in Fenris' throat and knew they'd definitely moved into _fight_, which was fine with her. There was every chance this man might smell better if he were dead. She also couldn't let this Caster person get away with those disparaging remarks toward her husband, even though she knew he could handle these five on his own in a matter of minutes. Then an idea came to mind that would allow Fenris to do just that, and allow her to put them in their place.

"Think you boys can handle me, do you?" she asked in her best imitation of Isabela – a hand on one hip and a sassy grin on her face. She knew Fenris would wait for her signal, but she could practically feel the tension coming off him in waves.

There was a chorus of guffaws and laughter, and Caster said, "I'll have you singing to the Maker, girlie," and he took a step toward her.

Hawke put up a hand and waggled a finger at him, and there was a wicked grin on her face. "Oh no, no," she said, "first you must get permission from my husband." She stepped aside then, and in the space of a heartbeat Fenris was glowing blue and drawing his greatsword.

"Andraste's ass, what is that?" Caster bellowed as he drew his own sword. The men behind him began to back away, which was no surprise to Hawke. This sort were generally guaranteed to be cowards.

She had to admit watching Fenris fight, hearing his battle roar as he swept through the men as if they were so many twigs to be snapped, was… well, it was arousing. Especially since he was 'defending her honor.' It was something they both knew she was perfectly capable of doing for herself, which only made it all the more compelling. Her fingers itched to pull her daggers to join him, but she forced herself to remain still, simply watching as Fenris swung his blade in a great arc, and the thugs began to topple.

It was over in minutes, with only Caster was left alive, bleeding from his head and his chest, as he begged Fenris for his life. Her husband stood over the scoundrel, one foot pressed into the man's stomach. He turned back to Hawke, a question in his eyes.

She slowly sauntered over to him and looked down at Caster. "Apologize," was all she said.

Caster coughed, and choked out, "What?"

"If you wish to live, you will apologize to my husband," she said calmly.

Caster spat a wad of phlegm and blood onto the ground. "Crazy bitch," he said.

Hawke tugged on Fenris' arm, and he moved away without hesitation. She leaned down and said with a smile, "Last chance."

"Go fu…"

He got no further because Hawke's dagger was buried in his throat. Caster's eyes bulged and then he lay limp, the life gone from them.

She wiped her dagger on the man's pants before sheathing it, then turned to Fenris to find him watching her, one eyebrow lifted and a grim smile on his lips. His very sexy, kissable lips. Suddenly they were moving toward each other and her hands went into his hair as he grabbed her by the waist. Their lips met and parted, opening to each other in a frenzy of need. Really, she wanted to devour him right there among the corpses, but she pulled away and rested her forehead against his.

"Let's get away from here," she said breathlessly, and then squealed when he lifted her into his arms, and at a near-run moved off into the open floor of the forest. Hawke took advantage of how near her mouth was to his delectable neck. She pulled his salty skin between her lips and nibbled with her teeth. Fenris ran faster.

Finally the beech trees gave way to a copse of pines and fir; their soft needles carpeting the ground and releasing their pungent scent with each step Fenris took. He lowered her slowly to the ground only to pull her against him as she gained her footing. For all their earlier frenzy, Hawke suddenly felt as if time had now slowed to a crawl.

"Hawke," Fenris growled as began to unbuckle her armor. The sound sent a wave of heat through her belly and down her legs, making it difficult to stand. She leaned more heavily into him and sought his mouth again.

The kiss was slow and languid, punctuated by growls and murmurs, and still his busy hands were removing her armor until she stood only in her loose tunic. Hawke dropped to her knees and watched as he dispatched with his own armor in a slow, deliberate manner, his eyes never once leaving hers. It reminded her of those years in Kirkwall, when he'd looked at her that way, as if she were the only thing that existed for him in the entire world; and how for many years it was the only thing she'd had to hold onto.

Once he'd removed his armor, he stood looking down at her with his eyes ablaze, dressed only in his small clothes. The sinewy, muscled length of his torso faintly shone in the dappled light of the forest. Hawke reached out her arms to him and he dropped to his knees and surrendered into her embrace. For long moments they knelt there, arms around each other, not moving or saying anything. It was as if their love was a tangible thing – she could smell it on his skin, hear it in the soft breaths warming her ear, feel it pulsating through the strong arms wrapped around her.

She wanted to taste it, too. She began with the lobe of his ear, hovering so temptingly near to her mouth. His hands began to wander as her lips moved from his ear to trace the line of his jaw and pass lightly over his mouth. Strong fingers moved under her tunic and traced the line of her spine, ran lightly across her rib cage and then traced the shape of her breasts with a featherlight touch. Hawke shivered.

"Fenris," she said as she kissed his shoulder and ran her tongue along his collarbone and down to the hollow of his throat, where she began to nibble again.

"Hmm?" he murmured as his thumbs moved in lazy swirls her flesh.

She lifted her head and looked up at him, and his eyes were dark and hooded. He was regarding her with a delicious hunger that had her melting. "Happy Anniversary," she said.

His lips quirked in a smile. "Anniversary?"

Hawke nodded and ran her thumb along his bottom lip. "Nine years ago today, we first met."

His hands stilled and he regarded her seriously for a moment. "You remember the day," he said with some awe.

"You made an impression," she told him. "By the time we returned from the Deep Roads, you were all I could think about."

"How patient you were," he said and resumed his caresses. "How fortunate am I."

Hawke leaned into his hands. "The rewards for my patience have been great," she teased him.

"If I could give you more, I would," he growled as he pulled her into a hug.

"Oh yes," she said with a laugh. "A strong, handsome husband, beautiful, healthy children, and interesting life, incredible sex… you ser, are a slacker."

He pulled back and grinned at her. "Incredible?"

She considered for a moment. "Earth-shattering."

"Hmm," he growled.

She placed a soft kiss on his lips and whispered, "Perfect in every way."

And that was the last chance Hawke had to say anything for quite a while, as Fenris kept her very, very busy with his perfection.

* * *

"Papa! Papa! Papa!" sang Melody as she ran across the wide room and threw herself in her father's arm. Fenris scooped her up and twirled her in the air above his head, making her squeal in delight.

Farrell followed his sister at a much more sedate pace, but Hawke would have none of that and ran up to meet her little man. He wasn't much for scooping and flying, but when his mother lifted him into a hug, his arms went around her neck and clung tightly. Very softly he whispered in her ear, "I'm glad you're back, Mama."

Hawke was glad to be back, too. She'd loved every minute of her time away with Fenris, but by last night they were both missing the twins so much they'd nearly started for home in the dark.

"Mama! Mama! Mama!" Melody reached for her mother, and she traded children with Fenris. Her daughter was suddenly raining kisses all over her face, making Hawke laugh. "How's my sweet girl?" she asked.

"Mama, we made cake!" Melody sang.

"What kind of cake?" asked Hawke.

"Berry, berry, berry!" sang Melody.

"Strawberry, Melody," said Farrell from his perch on his father's shoulders.

Bethany came into the room then, carrying said cake. Sebastian followed behind with a tea tray loaded with cups and saucers and a large steaming teapot.

As they all settled down for tea and cake, Hawke knew she would come to miss this happy little domestic scene while they were away. And yet, her travels would only make her treasure it all the more when they returned.


	2. Home Is Where the Heart Is

**HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS**

**Chapter 1**

Hawke's second trip aboard ship was far more pleasant that her first, no doubt because she shared a comfortable cabin with Fenris and the twins instead of being packed below decks with hundreds of other refugees escaping the Blight. Once they had arrived in Kirkwall, she had erased that first trip from her mind. The conditions had been bad enough, but worse was her shared grief with her mother and sister over Carver's death at the hands of that ogre. Since that day, every ogre she had ever killed had been for Carver, and she never tired of killing the blighted creatures. She wondered Carver was still in the Fade, or if he had finally found his peace and moved on.

The twins had taken to traveling better than she had hoped, and yet there were still challenges – especially with Melody, who like to climb on the ship's railings and peer down at the water rushing below. It was Varric who had finally found a way to keep her from her constant climbing with a story about a little girl who fell into the sea and turned into a fish. At first Hawke thought he'd done more harm than good by the way Melody's eyes lit up at the thought of being a fish, but when the story ended with the little girl watching from afar as her family grieved her loss, Melody's dark eyes filled with tears. The rest of that day she never let go of Farrell's hand, much to her brother's consternation.

Today they would dock in Denerim, a city she had not seen for over a decade. Hawke stood with Fenris and the twins on deck, watching as the outline of the shore transformed from a hazy blur to the stark outline of a rocky coast and the tall tower of Fort Drakon. Melody was perched atop her father's shoulders, her arms spread wide.

"Flyin, Papa!" she sang. "Flyin, flyin, flyin!"

For once Farrell did not correct his sister, but instead tugged at Hawke's hand from where he stood next to her, ever the little gentleman. She knelt down to put herself at eye level and asked, "What is it Farrell?"

"Is your Papa here?" he asked her; his serious eyes a mirror of his father's.

She felt tears sting her own eyes as she told him, "No Farrell. My Papa died long ago and he is with the Maker now." Hawke dropped a kiss on his forehead. 'Why do you ask?"

"He told me he was Ferelden," said Farrell, and although he pronounced the last very slowly and carefully Hawke was again amazed at her son's skill with language at such a young age.

"When did he tell you this?" asked Hawke, confused but also curious.

"While I was sleeping, Mama," replied Farrell. "I like your Papa," he added shyly.

It had been a very long time since Hawke had dreamt of her father, Malcolm Hawke. She'd thought he'd left the Fade with Mother many years ago. Although she was no mage, she'd always had an odd affinity to the Fade, and wondered now if her son did, too. Otherwise how could he remember his dream and express it so well?

Hawke ran a hand over Farrell's mop of blond hair in a soothing caress. "Dreams aren't the same as real life, Farrell," she said.

Farrell nodded sagely. "When I'm sleeping the bunnies have purple wings and they fly."

Hawke laughed and asked him, "Did you see the tiny dragons?"

Farrell's eyes grew wide as he shook his head.

"Maybe next time," she told him with a smile. "Did my Papa say anything else in your dreams?"

Farrell nodded slowly. "He said you were Magic Mari." He placed his small hand on her cheek. "Are you magic, Mama?" he asked.

Tears stung her eyes again as she pulled him into a hug. "Only in how much I love you my darling," she said.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

After all this time, Denerim seemed even more crowded if that were possible. She supposed it had something to do with King Alistair restoring some order to the country. Many Fereldens who'd left during the Blight were slowly but surely returning home as war erupted all over Thedas and Denerim was now more than ever a bustling, prosperous city. Hawke did notice the preponderance of soldiers roaming the streets, however, and she wondered if the King was also preparing for war.

They'd taken lodgings in a small but comfortable little house not far from the Arl of Redcliffe's Estate and the City Market. It had been three years since she'd actually lived in a city and she was having some difficulty adjusting to the constant noise and activity. Fenris, however, seemed completely at his ease as long as they stayed away from the fishmonger.

"Doesn't this bother you?" she asked as they made there way through the throng of people shopping in the City Market. Varric had stayed behind with the twins as they napped.

"You have not been to Minrathous," he said.

"That much worse, is it?" she asked.

"The slave market alone is said to be miles long," he replied.

Hawke shivered. That's not something she wanted to dwell upon on this beautiful, late summer afternoon. She drew his attention to the stands of fruits and vegetables. They needed to stock up the larders of the house.

Fenris was back to wearing his black cloak, the hood drawn up in an attempt to be less conspicuous, but Hawke noticed they were attracting some attention anyway. Even if it weren't for his markings, they would stand out as a mixed couple – elf and human pairings were looked down upon in nearly all places in Thedas, and though she didn't care a fig about what other people thought, but she did care that they not draw too much attention to themselves - there were still the Chantry Seekers to think about.

Fenris moved around the stall to inspect the apples and Hawke was picking through the peaches when she heard a voice call her name.

"Mari?"

Hawke froze. That voice, she knew it. A wash of memory hit her and suddenly she could smell bonfires burning, and hear music and laughter… and in her mind's eye she saw a pair of stormy grey eyes.

Slowly she turned and saw those eyes looking at her in astonishment.

"Mari!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with joy, and suddenly she was in his arms, her feet lifted from the ground as he swing her around in a circle before pulling her close to him. "Mari, Mari," he repeated, his voice choked with strong emotion. "I thought you were lost in the Blight."

For a moment all the years between them were erased, and to be in his arms again was truly like coming home. Ren. Her first love. The man she had planned to wed, whose face and scent and embrace brought back everything wonderful from her childhood in Lothering.

"Ren." She barely had time to speak his name before another voice spoke from behind her. A very growly voice.

"Hawke?"

She could feel her cheeks burning as she began to pull away from Ren, who was resisting her efforts quite emphatically. Hawke tried to turn to Fenris but before she could do so Ren was suddenly frowning and saying, "Is this elf bothering you?"

Uh oh. This wasn't going well.

And then Fenris said, "Remove your hands from my wife," in a rather threatening manner.

Ren looked down at her sharply. "Wife?" he asked.

"Just stop!" Hawke said fiercely, and finally succeeded in removing herself from Ren's tight grip on her. She stood between the two men and said in what she hoped was in a calm and reasonable tone, "Ren, meet my husband, Fenris. Fenris, this is Ren, an old friend from my childhood."

The two simply stared at each other in a not so friendly manner. She moved over to Fenris and looped her arm through his in an attempt to normalize the situation, before saying "It's good to see you, Ren. How have you been?"

Ren's gaze shifted to her and he said, "We were much more than friends, Mari. You were to be _my_ wife."

Hawke felt Fenris stiffen beside her.

"That was a long time ago," she said to him. "I'm sure you have a wife of your own and a passel of children by now."

Ren looked at her intently. "No," he said. "I have never married."

Fenris said, "We must return home before the twins awake," ignoring Ren completely.

"Home?" Ren asked, and then added, "You're living in Denerim now?"

Hawke was just as glad Ren seemed to have missed the part about twins. A public display in the Market was not a good idea. Hawke glanced at Fenris, who still had not removed his gaze from the other man. "Fenris," she said to get his attention.

He looked down at her, yet his expression remained provoked.

"Perhaps we can invite Ren to dine with us this evening," she said, and her voice was calm but her eyes were speaking to him in their own language. Her eyes told him to trust her, they ask him to indulge her, they promised there was no reason for him to be upset or angry.

His own expression cleared and he returned his gaze to the other man. "Will you join us?" he asked.

Ren's eyebrows shot up beneath the lock of dark hair that fell over his brow.

Hawke told him where they were staying and repeated Fenris' invitation. "Will you come?" she asked.

He briefly inclined his head. "I will," was his only answer before he turned and walked away.

"Thank you," Hawke told Fenris on a breath.

"Yes," he said. "And perhaps before our guest arrives this evening, we might have a little chat."

She smiled at him, despite the butterflies playing in her stomach. "Of course," she said.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

Really, she had never imagined Varric as a nanny, but he was exceptionally good with the children. Melody adored him and Farrell was absolutely fascinated with Bianca. So it was that Hawke and Fenris found a few quiet moments later that afternoon as the children were entertained by their dwarven "uncle" while they chopped the vegetables for their evening meal.

"I find it interesting that no mention of this former fiancé has been made in all the years we have been together," he said without preamble.

Hawke bit her bottom lip to keep from smiling at his candor as she set down her knife next to the pile of carrots she'd been chopping and turned to him. "Would you like to know why?" she asked.

"Yes, I would," he replied with a hint of impatience.

"Because it was over long before I met you," she said simply.

"And you did not marry this man, because…" he prodded.

She took his hand and let him to the small wooden table in the corner of the kitchen. Once seated, she did not release him. "When my father died, Fenris, everything changed for me. The life I had planned with Ren felt childish, meaningless."

"So you ended it," he said gruffly.

"I did," she replied with a nod. "To be honest, it was as if someone had turned off a switch inside me and everything I'd been feeling for him simply… vanished."

"My impression is he did not feel the same," remarked Fenris. "I believe he harbors feelings for you still." He looked down at their joined hands. "I did not want to invite him here," he admitted.

"Ren was a fine young man, Fenris," she said with a sigh. "If what you say is true, I want him to see me happy, meet Melody and Farrell."

"What will that accomplish?" Fenris asked as he raised his eyes to hers once more.

"Unless he's changed very much, he'll be glad for me," she explained. What she needed to say next was necessary, but she did not like it. "You know how other elves and humans feel about us, Fenris. This was the third house we enquired about and you know why the first two turned us down."

His grip on her hand tightened. "You think his bigotry causes him concern for you?"

Hawke shrugged. "We shall see when he arrives tonight."

"I will see no harm come to my family, Hawke," Fenris said rather fiercely.

"I know," she said and leaned in to kiss him. "Neither will I."

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

Fenris watched as Hawke greeted their guest, Melody in the crook of his arm, Farrell holding tightly to his hand. When the man placed a kiss on his wife's cheek, he felt the lyrium under his flesh burn, though he was careful to control that it did not light.

Hawke turned to them and said, "Ren, these are our children, Melody and Farrell."

Fenris nearly smirked as Melody buried her face against his neck. Usually very outgoing, apparently his daughter liked this man no more than he did.

Ren walked over to them and focused his attention on Farrell, who was staring up at him with a very broody little expression. This time Fenris had to swallow the laughter that arose in his throat. Like father like son, he thought.

"Hello Farrell," Ren said, his tone cautious but friendly.

"Hello," Farrell replied in his clear little voice. "You should not kiss Mama," he added.

Fenris wasn't sure if Ren was startled by Farrell's command of language or by what he'd said.

"What?" asked Ren in surprise.

"Papa doesn't like it," explained Farrell.

Was it wrong that he was proud of his son? Fenris thought not. But his thoughts were of Hawke as he said in a bored drawl, "Ren is your mother's friend, Farrell. He was simply being _friendly_."

Farrell did not reply and he could see Hawke was struggling for something to say to ease the tense situation when Varric came bustling into the room.

With his usual lack of tact he said, "So, this is the old boyfriend." He eyed Ren speculatively for a moment before he stuck out his hand, "Varric Tethras at your service."

Ren took the offered hand. "Ren Bedell," he returned. It seemed the man's face would wear a perpetual look of surprise and consternation for the entire evening.

Fenris nearly chuckled at Varric's words. Really, he had not thought this visit would be quite so entertaining, but between the children and the dwarf, he was having trouble keeping his face schooled into a polite mask.

Hawke, her cheeks pink, said, "Dinner will be ready soon," and she ushered them all into the small sitting room. Melody still cling to him in a death-grip, but Farrell chose to sit next to his mother, sandwiching himself between her and their guest on the narrow sofa. He continued to stare up at Ren with a slight scowl on his face.

Once they were all seated, Varric wasted no time in ferreting information. "So Ren," he said, "What was our Hawke like as a little girl?"

"Why do you all call her Hawke when her name is Mari?" asked Ren.

"I'm right here," said Hawke. "No need to speak around me."

Varric chuckled. "Going to explain it to him, Hawke?" he asked.

Hawke glanced at Farrell beside her and then to Melody, who was now peering up at her mother cautiously. "I think that tale is best left for another time," she said meaningfully.

Fenris listened with interest as Varric prompted the man into talking about Hawke as a child in Lothering. Carver's name came up quite often, and even though her smile never faltered, he could see the lines of grief in his wife's face.

Satisfied that Ren was no threat to his family, it was Fenris who eventually took the children up to bed after dinner. He could not say his jealousy was entirely gone, but with the help of the twins and Varric, most of his good humor was restored. As soon as they were in the children's room, Melody began singing and chattering in her usual way.

"Make him go 'way, Papa," she sang. "way, way, way!"

"Away," corrected Farrell, and the added "Will you, Papa?"

"When you wake up in the morning," Fenris told them, "He will no longer be here."

Melody planted a loud kiss on her father's cheek. "Love you, Papa," she said before sliding under the covers and closing her eyes tightly, as if in a hurry to get to sleep and make the man go away.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

"Why Mari?" asked Ren once they were alone. "Why would you choose tie yourself to…"

"Don't say it, Ren," Hawke warned. "It will end this conversation."

"I just don't understand," he said running a hand through his hair. "I don't understand why you left me, why you didn't come to Denerim when the Blight hit." He paused and took her hand. "I would have protected you and your family, Mari. You must know this."

"We barely made it out of Lothering alive, Ren," she told him. "We escaped to Kirkwall, where my mother was born."

"Kirkwall?" he said. "There was a lot of trouble there a few years ago…" he began and then a look of comprehension dawned on his face. "Hawke," he said, "that's why they call you Hawke… you're… you're the Champion of Kirkwall, aren't you?"

Hawke sighed. "Yes, but I would not wish that fact widely known."

"I can't believe that was you!" he exclaimed. "Is it true you blew up the Chantry and started the Mage Rebellion?"

Hawke shook her head. "No to the first and not exactly to the second," she replied.

"What…" he began.

"If you really want the story, invite Varric over for a drink sometime," she said. "I really don't want to talk about this, Ren."

"I see," he said stiffly. "Very well, then."

"And I must ask that you not speak of who I am," she continued. "It could endanger my family," she said.

"You really have changed, Mari," he said. "You're not the same girl I fell in love with, are you?"

Hawke laughed without humor. "Perhaps that girl died with her father," she said. "Or perhaps she died in the Blight as you always thought." She shook her head. "No, I have her memories, but through long struggle and much loss, I have come to be my true self, Ren. I have found my true love."

Ren cleared his throat, and changed the subject slightly. "You have beautiful children, Mari," he said. "Your daughter is the spitting image of you."

"I wish she hadn't been so shy," Hawke replied. "Melody is usually a delight."

"I don't like to admit it," he said shaking his head sadly, "but it's obvious how much he cares for you and your children."

"_He_ has a name," she scolded.

"Yes, well," said Ren as he stood, "Please extend my thanks to Fenris for this evening."

Hawke stood as well and moved to the door, glad to have this day done. Before he left Ren kissed her again, this time briefly on her lips. "Goodbye, Mari," he said and was gone.

Hawke ascended the stairs feeling emotionally exhausted. She really hoped Fenris was not in a talking mood because all she wanted to do at this point was put this long, stressful day behind her. It had been so long since she'd remembered the details of her years in Lothering, and to have them come flooding back to her in the visceral form of her first love, had elicited a return of the grief over everyone and everything she had lost since then. She longed for her sister, her connection to that time. Perhaps tomorrow she would write a letter to Bethany, who she knew would understand just how difficult this reunion had been for her.

Hawke opened the door to their bedroom, and there was Fenris, lying on the bed dressed only his smalls, his arms folded beneath his head. She could not read the expression on his face, which made her nervous; rarely could she not read his mood. She saw his desire, but thought there was something else, as well.

"Fenris?" she questioned as she shut the door behind her. "What is it?"

With that grace that was so natural to him, he unfolded himself from the bed and came to stand before her. "I have been thinking," he said.

Her heart began to beat a rapid cadence in her chest. "Thinking?" she asked with some trepidation.

"Yes," he growled as his hands moved to the buttons on her blouse. "I've been thinking about how often it is that the most painful things in life lead us to what we cherish the most."

Hawke remembered her thoughts of just moments ago – thoughts of loss and pain and grief – and as she looked at her husband she suddenly understood his expression. They'd both suffered so much, lost so much, and yet they had each other, belonged to each other. It was gratitude that shone from his eyes along with the passion. Her heart lifted and she said in a teasing tone, "Hmm, this cherishing thing, could you show me?"

"Gladly," he said as he continued to undress her.

And he did, long into the night.

**Chapter 2:**

A voice as smooth as honeywine whispered in Hawke's ear. "My dear Champion, how well you are looking."

Hawke quelled the instinctual urge to pull her daggers and turn. Instead she continued to look forward and replied silkily, "Why if it isn't the elf with the pouty lips."

"You forgot to mention how ridiculously handsome I am," he said and stepped into her view.

"Zevran, isn't it?" Hawke said with a smile.

"Zevran Arainai," he said with a slight bow and a pouty grin.

"So, did you win your war in Antiva?" Hawke asked him.

"Wars in Antiva are never won or lost," he said with a shrug, "You simply survive or die. I am well known for surviving." He looked at her speculatively. "What brings you to Denerim, Cha…"

Hawke interrupted him. "Call me Hawke please, Zevran," she said.

"Ah yes, of course. I understand you," he said smiling at her.

Zevran had snuck up behind her as she'd been perusing the new display of daggers at the Weapon Smithy. It seemed everyone from her past was finding her in Denerim – it had only been a few weeks ago that Ren had found her in the market, and now here was the former Antivan Crow, who she'd once helped when his former brothers had placed a contract on his head.

"So tell me, Hawke," he said, a long finger idly stroking his chin, "that elf with the strange markings…"

"Fenris?" she supplied.

Zevran laughed heartily. "Of course, Fenris. Does he continue to jealously guard your… affections?"

Hawke laughed. "I haven't seen you in years and the first thing you want to know is if I'm willing to take a tumble?"

Zevran placed a hand to his chest. "You will forgive me if your beauty overwhelms me," he said with a dramatic sigh.

"Will I?" she said with a laugh. "Yes, I suppose I will. You're too charming for your own good."

"Does that mean you will grant me the fondest wish of my heart?" he asked her.

"No, it doesn't mean that," she replied. "Fenris is my husband now."

Zevran staggered back. "No!" he exclaimed. "Tell me the most beautiful woman in all of Thedas is not taken!"

"You're taking this a bit far," Hawke said with a smirk.

Zevran laughed. "You think so? Hmm, I shall have to reconsider my tactics."

Hawke smiled. "Why don't you come home with me? Meet my family."

Zevran looped his arm through hers. "I would be delighted."

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

Melody was instantly fascinated with the Antivan elf. Unlike the day Ren had come to visit and her daughter had barely lifted her head from her father's shoulder, when Zevran walked into the room where Fenris sat reading a storybook to the twins, Melody instantly squirmed down from her father's lap and ran up to greet him.

"Who are you?" she sang in her sweet little voice.

Hawke noticed Fenris lifted one eyebrow in question and that Farrell was busily watching his father's reaction to this new person.

Zevran knelt down on one knee and offered his hand to Melody. He said, "I am Zevran. And what is your name, little girl with the beautiful voice?"

Melody giggled. "Melody, Melody, Melody!" she sang. She also took his hand, much to Hawke's surprise.

Zevran lifted Melody's small hand to his lips and kissed it. "My pleasure, surely," he said.

"You have ears like Papa," said Farrell from where he sat on the sofa. "You're an elf."

"Ah, you know my secret," said Zevran. "And though your ears do not show it, the blood of the Dales surely runs in your veins."

Hawke bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. She had no idea what her son would make of that. Clever as he was, that was still a lot for a little boy not yet three to take in.

Farrell looked down at his own arm as if inspecting it for blood, and then up at Zevran. "What are the Dales?" he asked seriously.

"You do not know of the Dales?" Zevran asked in mock surprise. "We shall talk long on this subject later, my new little friend." He turned to Fenris and said, "It is good to see you again, Fenris. May I congratulate you on capturing the finest prize in all of Thedas?"

Fenris eyed Zevran warily, but offered his hand. "Zevran," he said by way of a greeting. "You may congratulate me, but there was no _capturing_ involved."

Zevran's laughter echoed through the room, causing Melody to giggle again. "You are right, I am sure," he said beaming at Hawke.

"Well, if it isn't elf number two," exclaimed Varric as he entered the room. "I thought you were in Antiva fighting wars or something."

"Varric, yes?" said Zevran. "Still at the Champion's side, I see."

Varric smirked. "No better place to be, my friend." He said and glancing at the twins he added, "Especially with these two around."

"Beautiful, clever children to be sure," agreed Zevran. "So, the great adventurer has settled into a happy domestic life, yes? There are those who would never believe it."

"What do you mean?" asked Hawke.

"Even nearly three years later, I hear the rumors," he replied. "Every time another Circle falls, people say it was the Champion behind it."

"Zevran," said Hawke. "Perhaps we could delay this conversation until later?" She glanced meaningfully at the children.

"Of course my dear Hawke," he said. He grinned down at Melody and held out his arms to her. "Something tells me you like to fly, beautiful Melody."

This time Hawke was no longer surprised when her daughter jumped into Zevran's arms and squealed in delight as he lifted her and spun her in the air.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

It had been three weeks since he'd been to visit Mari and her family. Three weeks to reconcile himself to the fact that his first and only love was alive after all – alive and happy with a family of her own.

He was not becoming reconciled. It was getting worse, not better.

Ren had actually considered inviting that dwarf out for a drink in hopes of finding our more about the life of Mari Hawke since she'd left Ferelden so long ago. In the end, however, he had thought better of it. Varric seemed an astute sort of fellow and Ren was more than a little concerned that the dwarf would pick up on his obsession with Mari.

Although the memory of her had remained strong in his heart these many years, since he'd seen her again she was all he could think about. In fact, he'd gone so far as to hide in the shadows of the alley near the market and watch as she shopped with her family – her laughter reaching his ears where he hid, the sound of it both a blessing and a curse.

Her family.

The children didn't bother him, especially the little girl who looked so much like her mother, despite her shy ways. Neither one of them looked elven, thankfully, except for maybe the little boy around the eyes.

What bothered him was that elf, Fenris. The thought of him touching his Mari… It was too much. That she could give herself to a blighted knife-ear was like a dagger in his heart.

He thought he had comported himself well enough in their presence. He hoped he had not revealed too much of his true feelings, though he knew Mari was aware of his concern that she'd married an elf. If only there were some way to removed that elf from her life. Surely she would then turn to him – a man who loved her and who owned a thriving business - someone who could care for her and the children in their need.

If only there were some way. He was no fighter himself and he had seen the large sword in its stand on his visit. He knew Mari preferred smaller blades, so by process of elimination the sword must belong to _him_. To the elf. And of course Mari mustn't know that he had anything to do with… with what? Exactly what was he thinking of doing?

"Get ahold of yourself, man," he said aloud to the empty bedchamber where he now paced.

But the idea had been planted and he could not seem to let go of it. There were many unsavory types in Denerim. Many skilled mercenaries who, for the right amount of coin would do the job that he himself could not.

_Maker save him._

Ren crossed the room and knelt before the locked chest that sat at the foot of his bed. He fumbled with keys until he managed to unlocked it, opened the lid and pulled out a large, leather sack. Rising, he dumped the contents onto his bed, listening to the clank and clatter of coins as they slid across the blankets. A lifetime's worth of scrimping and saving covered the bed before him. Hundreds of gold sovereigns glittered in the soft lamplight. He picked one up and examined it thoughtfully.

Perhaps he would make some inquiries. Find out how much it would cost to have a man killed. _An elf killed._

**Chapter 3:**

Hawke was putting the twins to bed and Varric was down at the Pearl gathering stories as Fenris sat penning a reply to his sister's latest letter. When Zevran entered the room he put his pen down and turned in his seat to face him.

"Ah, I did not mean to disturb you, my friend," said Zevran and made as if to leave.

"You do disturb me, but not in the way you think," replied Fenris.

Zevran laughed and sat in the chair by the cold fireplace. "Perhaps you have something on your mind, yes?"

"I do," replied Fenris. Zevran had spent the entire day with his family, and Fenris had been more than a little surprised by how much he had enjoyed the other man's company – his good humor, his way with the twins. Melody had laughed and sang and played with Zevran for most of the day, and he'd also kept his promise to have that long talk with Farrell about the Dales. And yet… "I don't entirely trust you around my wife," he said.

"Of course you don't," Zevran said and laughed again heartily. "She is a priceless gem among women, is she not?"

Fenris weighed his next words very carefully. Only with Hawke and the twins had he ever been able to express his emotions freely. What he was about to say next would be a true test if he could ever learn to trust Zevran. Trust a former assassin, no less. But he knew of this man's involvement with the Hero of Ferelden, the Gray Warden now married to the King. Perhaps there was more to him than being a former Crow. So, he would offer Zevran the truth. "To me," he said gruffly, "she is_everything_."

The smile died on Zevran's lips and he studied Fenris seriously for long moments. "I understand you," he finally replied and rose from his seat. He stood before Fenris and said, "True love is a rare and beautiful thing, yes?"

"Yes, it is," said Fenris simply.

Zevran extended his hand. "I promise you, my friend, I would never harm a family such as yours," he said, and Fenris was surprised by the sincerity in his voice.

Fenris nodded and clasped Zevran's hand in his.

"What's this?" asked Hawke as she breezed through the door. "Making pacts behind my back?"

Zevran laughed and said, "Making promises, my dear Hawke." He turned back to Fenris and said, "And I always keep my promises."

**FROM THE JOURNAL OF VARRIC TETHRAS**

I have to admit I didn't have very high expectations about this trip to Ferelden. Yeah, I know it's Hawke's homeland and the Hero of Ferelden stopped the Blight, blah, blah, blah. Maybe I'd heard too many stories about the dogs and the dirt. Maybe I'd seen just a few too many downtrodden refugees living in Kirkwall's sewers. Who knows?

Fortunately, I have been pleasantly surprised. Denerim is a busy, bustling city – just the way I like them. Plenty of interesting stuff going on if you know where to look, and the best place to look is The Pearl.

Part bordello, part tavern, The Pearl is the meeting place of everything that is happening _unofficially_ in Denerim. I've been spending a great deal of time there, except when I'm playing nanny to the twins.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. Maybe I don't seem like the type who'd enjoy hanging around with urchins, but if you'd ever had the privilege of spending time with those two yourself, you wouldn't wonder why they're my favorite people in all of Thedas. Hehe. Maybe I like them so much because they're shorter than their Uncle Varric, you never know. Look, just take my word for it. And there's the added bonus that Bianca's never been so shiny since Farrell's taken over her polishing.

Of course, wherever Hawke goes, some sort of drama or trouble is sure to follow. Not long after we arrived, Hawke's old boyfriend showed up. Hehe. _Awkward_. I did my best to be my usual charming self, but something about that guy had the back of my neck prickling. Fenris tolerated him stoically, for Hawke's sake I'm sure, but the twins were none too fond of him either. Problem is, I think Hawke may have a slight blind spot when it comes to Ren. I don't trust him. Maybe there's nothing to worry about because he hasn't been back since then.

Hawke though, she keeps gathering people to her like she always does. This morning she brought elf number two home with her. I remember quite clearly that little scene between Hawke and the two elves at the Antivan Camp, and was surprised that elf number one didn't go all glowing on elf number two's ass. I think it was the way my little Sparrow took right to Zevran that had her papa at his ease. When I came home from the Pearl tonight, Hawke was sitting drinking and laughing with the two elves like they were all best friends or something. Weird.

The funny part? When Zevran stood up to take his leave it was Fenris who offered him the last empty bedroom for his use. Elf number one is usually very prickly when it comes to who he will allow near his family.

Elf number two accepted the offer and is now happily ensconced in the Hawke Household. You really cannot make this shit up. A human, two elves, a dwarf and two little mixed blood urchins sharing a house. Only in Hawke's world – hehe.

Just for the record, I'm kind of glad elf number two is staying. That prickly feeling at the back of my neck hasn't gone away and from what I remember, he's pretty good with his daggers.

**Chapter 4: **

"What have you done?" Ren said, although there was no one in the empty print shop to hear him.

The smell of ink and new parchment was a comfortable, familiar one, which is why he was in the shop instead of upstairs in his home. Ever since he had paid that tall, red-haired man [_what was his name? what was his name_] to remove that elf [_kill him murder him_] from Mari's life, it seemed as if he were suddenly two different people – that there were two different sets of thoughts in his head [_she will hate you if she finds out_].

He'd come to the shop seeking solace, seeking sanity [_there is blood on your hands – what have you done?_]. He'd given the man [_his name was Gordon you fool_] a description of the elf [_Fenris – he's Mari's husband_] and Mari's address and left the details of the act up to him [_not an act – it is murder_]. He had no idea if they would fulfill the contract this night [_he's the father of her children_] or tomorrow or next week.

If only he could stop the incessant chatter in his head [_she will find out – she will kill you_] and calm himself, then everything would be fine. His Mari would soon be returned to him [_those men could hurt her_].

Ren dropped to the floor, covered his face with his hands and began to sob.

_What had he done?_

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

Zevran was feeling entirely grateful to poor, dead Nuncio. If his former brother-in-arms had not tried to kill him he would never have me Hawke. In Zevran's opinion that would have been a terrible shame, indeed. He found himself in a very comfortable position among very entertaining and interesting people – and such delightful children the likes of which he had never seen before – all because he'd become his own man – a man who chose to live by his own rules.

Perhaps he really should direct his gratitude toward the Warden, because it was from her that he had learned the value, the satisfaction, of not only acting to please oneself, but living your life to help others as well. Such a fine, beautiful woman was the Warden. Even now he felt a hint of envy that Alistair had won her heart. He chuckled to himself as he navigated the darkened, twisting streets toward his goal. Just as his new friend Fenris had won the heart of the most beautiful and vivacious Hawke. He always seemed to enter the game after he had no chance of winning.

In truth, it was because of Hawke, or perhaps because of Fenris, that he was strolling the nighttime streets of Denerim on his way to The Pearl. He decided it was both their faults. Hawke for being such a delectable temptation to his very healthy libido, and Fenris for offering Zevran what few people ever had – honesty.

Ah yes, but a promise made was a promise kept, was it not? So, better to sample the ever so abundant wares at The Pearl than to do harm to his new friends.

It was at that exact moment that Zevran realized he was being followed. Well, wasn't this an interesting turn of events? Usually in his experience when someone followed you it was not a good thing. No. He had never been followed to be given flowers, or say a bottle of Antivan Brandy, in these circumstances.

Even as he entertained these idle thoughts, Zevran was preparing for the attack he knew would soon be upon him. Already he'd loosed a sharp throwing knife into his hand and had changed his cadence from a casual stroll to a rogue's prowl. Would his followers notice? An interesting question, surely, but he did not believe that they would. He had noticed them quite easily, hadn't he? These men surely did not know what they were doing.

The attack came just when he expected it would. The street here had many deep shadows and the windows of the buildings were dark, empty eyes peering out at the night. Zevran took out the first man with a well-thrown knife to the throat. If he really was the keen observer he knew himself to be, there were three more.

Two of them rushed him then, dropping all pretense of stealth and charged him with their shiny, sharp swords. A spin, a drop and a flip as his daggers sliced and stabbed at his assailants, and two more were down. What amateurs these fine fellows were! Zevran was behind the fourth man with his dagger at the man's throat in a matter of seconds.

"You really should consider a shave," Zevran said in the man's ear. "The mangy-beard look is not a good one for you, yes?"

"Don't kill me," the man pleaded in a choked voice.

Zevran laughed. Of course he did. "You are in luck, my fine bearded friend," he said. "Tell me the name of your employer and you will walk free this night."

"I…I don't…" he began.

"Oh, I can tell already you are not giving me the answer I seek," Zevran said. "Why don't you begin again?"

"Print shop," choked the man.

"Print shop?" asked Zevran. "Did you hit your head? You are not making sense."

"Gordon said the man at the print shop…"

Zevran pressed the blade more firmly to the man's neck. "Gordon was your leader?"

"Y-yes," he replied.

"And a man at the print shop paid you to kill me?"

"Y-yes," he stuttered.

Zevran was truly puzzled. Of the long list of people who he knew wanted him dead, he could not recall ever incurring the ire of a printer. Perhaps he had dallied with the man's wife unknowingly? That could be true. It happened a lot, in fact.

"What were your instructions?" Zevran asked, loosening the knife very slightly.

"Kill the elf staying at Widow Hotchin's old place," the man said. He was practically sobbing now.

The elf? There were two elves living in that house, himself and Fenris. Suddenly Zevran wanted to speak to him, and to Hawke. Perhaps they knew something of this printer man.

Zevran turned the bearded human around and studied him carefully. "If I ever see your bushy face again, you are dead."

The man nodded fiercely as his hand went to his throat. Zevran no longer cared. He stepped into the shadows and headed for his temporary home.

**Chapter 5:**

Hawke looked at Fenris and for the first time since she'd known him she envied him his ability to turn all blue and glowy. She was sure she was red, perhaps even purple, and it was slightly possible there could be steam coming out of her ears – at least they felt hot enough that it could be so.

"Where is this print shop?" Fenris growled as he also glowed.

Hawke looked back at Zevran, who had just delivered the news that _printer man_ had hired thugs to kill her husband – thugs who had mistakenly attacked him instead. Very stupid thugs, apparently, attacking the wrong elf – one who happened to also be a skilled assassin. Not that the results would have been any different if they had attacked Fenris. Well, perhaps slightly different. There might be hearts and livers all over the ground in addition to the dead bodies. _Maker_, why was her inner monologue being so cheeky?

Zevran said, "Of course you want this man dead, my friend, but perhaps it will be better if we do not rush off in anger, yes?"

Fenris simply glowed more brightly, but he also looked at Hawke. She knew that despite the fact that it was his life that was threatened, he looked to her to decide how they should proceed.

Why had Ren done this thing? She hadn't seen or heard from him since the evening he'd come to dine with them. Surely whatever lingering feelings he had for her could not be strong enough to commit murder? Powerful enough to actually take a contract out on her husband? Yes, her first impulse was to rush off and find him – put a dagger into his heart, actually – but there was another, perhaps more rational part of her mind that wanted to know just what was going on here. Both elves were staring at her, waiting for her to speak.

She took several slow, deep breaths and allowed her anger to dissolve. She felt the tingling warmth of resolve flow through her muscles until they were calmly alert.

The first thing Hawke did was approach her glowing husband- her fierce warrior. She placed one hand on his cheek and rested the other on his shoulder. "Fenris," she said softly.

As their eyes met and held she saw the transformation as it happened. He heard her wordless entreaty for him to master himself, to bring the lyrium in his flesh back under control. Gradually his markings began to fade, even though his expression remained rather fierce.

"And so the beauty tames the savage beast," Zevran said.

Fenris' gaze flew to Zevran, his face set in an impressive scowl.

Zevran held up both hands as he said, "That was not an insult, my friend." He smiled ruefully. "If only I had such a one myself, you see?"

Fenris only nodded curtly and, thankfully, his markings remained dormant.

Hawke looked at each of them, but her gaze was on Fenris as she spoke. "His life is forfeit," she said calmly. "But I need to speak with him first."

"Why?" Fenris asked in toneless growl.

Hawke didn't have to think before answering, "Because he was once a decent, honorable man." Unfortunately she found herself needing to add, "And because I once cared for him."

Fenris grunted and shook his head.

"Hawke," said Zevran, "This man is dangerous to others and to himself if only because of the size of his stupidity. He his a mad dog who must be put down."

Fenris grunted again, this time in agreement.

"His life is forfeit," repeated Hawke. "But I will hear him, nonetheless."

"We must go now," said Fenris, his own anger clearly visible in his voice and on his face. "If he learns his plan has failed he may run."

"I cannot help but agree," said Zevran.

"We can't leave the twins alone, and who knows where Varric is?" said Hawke.

"He is at The Pearl," said Zevran. "Of course he is."

"I will retrieve him," said Fenris and he started to move.

Hawke gripped his arm. "Bad idea, you going off alone," she said.

Fenris stopped, but she could feel the tension radiating off of him.

"The children are asleep," said Zevran. "And though surely I would prefer to accompany you, it would be my honor to protect them while you are gone."

This time Hawke glanced at Fenris, waiting for his leave.

Now Fenris hesitated. Hawke could almost hear his internal struggle and had to admit to that she was not entirely without misgivings herself. They had known Zevran for such a short time, and there was nothing more precious to them than Melody and Farrell. To put the twins lives in Zevran's hands would be a leap of faith – one she was not sure she was ready to make. Truthfully she would have preferred him to accompany them, yet she too felt the urge to move quickly.

"You do not insult me with your hesitation," said Zevran. "I would expect no less. Words will not make you see the truth of my heart, but I offer them to you sincerely." He stepped toward them. "Only if I am dead will any harm come to your children."

Hawke looked to Fenris, and again their eyes met and held. So much was said between them in those moments. Their doubts, their duty, their love… all expressed without the need for conversation. Only with Bethany had she ever experienced anything like it. They both wanted to trust Zevran, that was clear – but the price that would be paid if that trust was misplaced… She knew in the deepest part of her heart that Fenris would never risk the children, so she let him know the decision was his.

Fenris turned to Zevran and studied him for long moments, and the other man stood unflinching in the intensity of his penetrating gaze. After a time that was probably only minutes but felt like hours, Fenris lifted his hand and extended it to the other man. At that moment, however, a ruckus at the front door had all their heads turning toward the sound. A few seconds later Varric appeared in the doorway and as he took in the scene, a low whistle sounded from between his teeth.

"Who died?" he asked.

It took some time to explain the situation to Varric, but it wasn't that much later when Hawke left the house, the two elves close at her side.

**Chapter 6:**

Hawke stood gazing up at the tall, narrow building that housed the print shop from the shadows of an alley across the lane. The lower floors were all dark, but a window just below the roofline shone with a pale yellow light. She desperately wished this whole situation could have been avoided. The last thing she wanted to do was kill the man who had once been her love – her first love. But she only need look at Fenris standing next to her and think of Melody and Farrell tucked safely in their bed and she knew the choice was already made.

"Zevran," she said, her eyes still glued to that single lit window.

"Yes, my friend?" he asked.

"Would you…" she hesitated, knowing that once she made her request of him, there was no turning back. She cleared her throat and began again. "I assume Ren lives above the shop." She pointed to the window. "I would ask you to secure him before Fenris and I join you."

Zevran lifted one eyebrow, but he nodded his agreement. "Of course," he said.

Hawke watched as Zevran moved to the door and within seconds he had opened it and slipped inside. She turned to Fenris.

"I hate that it's come to this," she said.

"_This_ was his choice," Fenris said in clipped tones. His anger had not abated and she could see that he struggled to keep control.

"I'm sorry, Fenris," she said. "You're right of course."

"You have nothing to apologize for," he replied. He glanced up toward the window. "I will do this."

"Am I a coward that I won't argue with you?" she asked.

Something in Fenris' expression shifted. His eyes softened and he lifted a hand to her cheek. "You are the bravest person I have ever met," he said.

Hawke thought that probably wasn't true, but she loved him all the more that he thought so. She leaned in and pressed her lips to his, intending only a brief kiss of gratitude, but apparently Fenris had other ideas. His arms went around her and he deepened the kiss with a low growl. When his tongue sought entrance, she opened for him and was soon swept away by his fierce possession of her mouth. When he finally pulled away and looked down at her, his eyes aglow with passion, it was all she could do to keep from dragging him home to finish what he'd started. It seemed Fenris was thinking the same thing, because he smiled for the first time since Zevran had told them of the attack on his life.

"Nothing will come between us, Hawke," growled Fenris.

She felt an answering smile curve her lips. "_Vir Adahlen_," she whispered. *

When they entered the room, Ren was sitting in a chair by the fireplace, a wild look in his eyes, his face pale as death, though there was not a mark on him. Zevran was leaning against the wall, a troubled look on his face.

"Mari," Ren said, his voice choked with emotion. "You've come back to me." He leaned forward in his chair, but did not rise.

Zevran spoke then. "This man is out of his mind. He does not speak sense."

"Mari, please," said Ren, extending a hand to her.

She looked at the man before her. There was no trace left of the bright, vibrant boy he had once been. Suddenly she did not want to know why he'd hired thugs to kill her husband. She did not want to know of his feelings for her or of his need to have her for his own. No. She wanted this over and quickly.

"Why won't you talk to me, Mari? Please…" Ren continued on with his pleading.

Hawke looked at Fenris and nodded. She watched as the lyrium under his flesh began to glow, his face no longer angry but simply intent on his task. Ren cringed away from him as her husband approached the seated man with slow, measured steps.

"Mari, what's wrong with him, what's he doing?" Ren pleaded.

"Goodbye, Ren," was all she said.

Fenris' arm shot out and Ren's eyes went wide as the fist entered his chest. A soft grunt escaped his lips, and then he went lax.

For several moments no one moved or stirred, the three of them stood staring down at Ren's slumped form. It was Zevran who broke the silence. "It would be best if we leave, yes?"

Hawke nodded. Another piece of her past gone. A desire to see her sister overwhelmed her, and she thought perhaps she'd had enough of Denerim, of Ferelden. It was no longer her home.

Fenris slipped an arm around her then, and she leaned into him gratefully as they walked out the door.

**FROM THE JOURNAL OF VARRIC TETHRAS**

Looks like we're cutting our trip to Ferelden short. It's a shame, really – I've enjoyed my time here, especially at The Pearl.

You know how it goes though, your husband kills your old boyfriend, who tried to have your husband killed and it takes all the fun out of a place. I guess it's not really something I should joke about, but with all the sour faces in this household over the past few days, somebody has to keep their good humor. Luckily I have the twins to keep me company, especially my little Sparrow.

Zevran left this morning, headed out to parts unknown. I think we'll probably see him again someday, however, because he and Fenris have gotten pretty thick. Zevran's not too bad for an elf. Hehe.

I do feel bad for Hawke, and for a couple of days there I couldn't get a smile out of her to save my soul. This morning she seems to have rallied, however, because when I caught her and Fenris in a lip-lock in the hallway, the smile she gave me when I cleared my throat was breathtaking. It was good to see, let me tell you.

We've book passage on a ship that leaves in two days. First we're going to Ostwick to see Rivaini and Pardus before Hawke's family goes back to Starkhaven to spend Wintersend with her family. I think I'll hang around with Rivaini for a while and see what kind of trouble we can get into. Other than this recent drama, of which I had no part, things have been a little too tame for my taste. Time to put my fingers in a few pies and make some coin. Hehe. That's what I do, after all. Well, that and tell stories.

* Elvhen for "Together we are stronger than one."


	3. Family Secrets

**FAMILY SECRETS**

_A/N Now we skip several years and the twins are eight years old._

**~ MELODY ~**

"Melody, no," Farrell said in a harsh whisper. "We mustn't."

The little girl, just recently turned eight years old, grabbed her brother by the hand. "I can't do this without you, Farrell." She gave him her best smile. "Come on." She tugged and when he didn't resist her she breathed a sigh of relief. Farrell could be so… so… _obedient_.

"What will Mother say?" Farrell asked, jogging to keep up with his sister's fast pace.

"Mother won't know," she replied as she scanned the hallway. "All clear," she added.

"Mother always knows," he said, and the tone of his voice sounded so much like Father's, Melody felt the first hint of doubt.

It was easier when Mother got angry. She simply told you in no uncertain terms why you will never do such and such thing again, and then gave you a nasty chore to do.

Father, on the other hand, did not get angry. It caused Melody's heart to sink when she thought of the disappointed way he'd growl, "Melody," and the look in his eyes that always made her want to cry.

She abruptly banished the picture from her mind. It was her parent's fault she'd made up this plan, anyway. No matter how many times she begged them to tell her and Farrell about how they'd met and all the adventures they'd had before she and her twin brother were born, they always said stupid things like, "When you're older."

She was old enough now!

She knew her mother had been someone famous. For instance, Uncle Donnic always called her "Champion." Champion of what? Of where? Melody thought it was probably Kirkwall, because that was one of the few things she did know. Her parents had met in that city, and it's the one place they had never been to in all of their travels. She couldn't stand not knowing. It was all she seemed to think about anymore.

Even Uncle Varric and Auntie Bela wouldn't talk about the past, and they talked about everything!

Well, she was tired of waiting. They were her parents and she had a right to know. The answers, she was sure, were all in that book Uncle Varric was always writing in. And Auntie Bela had given her the means to finally read it – Melody now knew how to pick locks. They'd spent most of the spring in Ostwick with Auntie Bela and Pardus, and Melody had spent most of her time learning all kinds of interesting things. She grinned to herself, feeling very adult and very smug.

**~ FARRELL ~**

Farrell kept watch while his sister worked on the lock to Uncle Varric's room. His empty room, because right now Varric was shut up with Mother and Father in the study of the old hunting lodge. They came back here every year to spend the summers and visit with Aunt Bethany, Uncle Sebastian and Malcolm. He loved these visits, and would be glad to see Malcolm soon, even though his cousin was a bit of a twit. Farrell supposed Malcolm couldn't help it, being a prince and all. He wasn't that bad really, it's just that at two years younger he always seemed to be trying to one-up Farrell and prove himself. An impossible task, really. Farrell didn't like to brag or boast, but he tended to excel at everything he did and he knew it. The only thing he was not good at was keeping Melody out of trouble. Why couldn't he ever say 'no' to her?

He heard the snick of the lock and Melody's beautiful voice singing, "Done, done, done!"

Melody used to sing everything and sing nearly everything in threes, but as she'd gotten older she'd made the effort to speak and not repeat herself – except for when she was upset or excited. Still, one of his parents' favorite things was when he would play the lute to accompany Melody's beautiful songs, which happened nearly every night.

"Come on, Farrell," Melody said, her face split in a huge grin.

He followed his sister into Uncle Varric's room. Varric wasn't really his uncle, of course, because Varric was a dwarf, and Farrell had an elf and a human as parents - a rare thing in itself and one that he'd been realizing many people frowned upon. But Varric was a constant companion to the family, only occasionally going off by himself to Orzammar or Kirkwall. Mother refused to go to Kirkwall with the excuse that it was too dangerous, no matter how many times his sister begged her to take them there.

Which was the main reason they were now breaking into Uncle Varric's room.

"Here it is!" Melody whispered excitedly, and there was definitely a song in her voice as she lifted Varric's heavy book from the shelf. They all knew what it looked like, of course - he was always scribbling away in the thing.

With trembling fingers, Melody opened the first page and began to read in a soft, lilting whisper.

**~ THE JOURNAL OF VARRIC TETHRIS ~**

_Today I finally tracked down that human, Hawke – the one who gained such an impressive reputation working with the Red Iron. She was with her sister leaving Bartrand's office, looking for all the world like she'd lost her best friend. Some inept local boy had tried to pick her pocket and guess who stepped in to save the day? Or the coin purse? – hehe – both really._

_I started this new journal to keep a record of my time with her, because after just one meeting, I know she's something special. Hawke has agreed to work with me in order to earn the money and buy into our Deep Roads expedition. I can already tell it won't take her long – she's definitely a force to be reckoned with._

_Oh, I don't mean that's she comes off all tough and pushy – not at all. In fact, she's got this brilliant smile and she always seems to be laughing. She has the most beautiful laugh. Really, there's not much about Hawke that isn't beautiful, but despite her airy, chaotic ways, I've never met anyone with so much presence. Just being near her you can feel her strength, like it's some kind of magical power. Hehe – it's funny really because her sister is the one who's a mage, but Bethany Hawke is a sweet, shy thing – and almost as pretty as her sister, which is saying something._

_Today I met Aveline Vallen – a city guardsman who escaped the blight in Ferelden with Hawke. She's a tough bird – big and strong and when she looks at you it's like she sees every law you've ever broken with those intense green eyes of hers. Heh – I'm not worried, though. I only get caught breaking laws when I choose to do so._

_The four of us are going out tonight to meet this dwarf named Anso. Apparently he has a job he needs doing and he's heard Hawke is someone who gets things done. From everything I've seen in the last few days, he's heard right. I think I'll bring Rivaini along – it's possible she and Hawke might hit it off. And I know my pirate friend has a little problem she could use some help with…_

Melody glanced up at her brother. "This is it, Farrell," she said. "It's all in here." She reached out and grabbed his hand.

Farrell shook his head. "We shouldn't be doing this," he said disapprovingly. "There will be trouble."

"You worry too much," Melody said with a laugh and returned to reading.

_It's kind of funny how Hawke keeps gathering people to her. Me, Aveline, Rivaini and now this strange elf from Tevinter. I'm not shitting you, I've never seen anyone like him before. He's all covered in lyrium tattoos, tall for an elf and his hair is as white as the markings on his flesh. He's a slave on the run, and last night's job turned out to be helping him find and kill his 'master.' That didn't work out, but at least the elf's still free and now he has the protection of Hawke. After the attacks last night, I'd say he's going to need her if he's going to be hanging around Kirkwall. He sure could swing that long-ass sword, though._

_Another thing I noticed last night was the way Hawke kept looking at the elf. Fenris is his name, and I think our fearless leader may be a bit intrigued. I have no idea why – he's broody and surly and hates everything to do with mages and magic. Considering Sunshine is a mage, I wonder how that will work out?_

_Anyway, the coin is a bit slow in coming, but I have every confidence that Hawke will figure it out. It's just what she does._

**~ FARRELL ~**

Melody closed the book and looked up at Farrell with shining eyes, her lower lip quivering. "Father was a slave," she said.

"Melody, we need to go," Farrell said, tugging at her arm. "We need to get out of here before we are caught."

Melody nodded and replaced the book on the shelf. They slipped out of the room and relocked the door. Farrell breathed a deep sigh of relief, surprised that his sister had capitulated so easily.

_Father was a slave._ Really, it explained so much.

They retreated to Melody's room on the top floor. When they entered there were two small sparrows and a wren perched on the open windowsill, singing their evening songs. Birds and small animals tended to follow his sister wherever they went - especially when they were in the country like now. Melody whistled to the birds and they flew off into the dusky night.

"No wonder they won't talk about the past," Melody said as she closed the window, her eyes still full of tears.

Farrell said, "It makes sense now why they said we were too young."

They sat on the edge of the bed together and Farrell's arm went around his sister as her head rested on his shoulder. As different as they were (considering that they were twins) there was an unspoken understanding between them that even at his age Farrell knew few people ever shared. He loved Mother and Father, but it was Melody who was his support and his strength, as she was to him. Melody was almost the spitting image of their mother, from her dark hair and eyes to her irresistible smile. Farrell did look quite a bit like his father, especially his eyes and his nose, but even though his hair was thick, it was a golden blond that no one else in the family seemed to share.

"I can't imagine being a slave, Farrell," Melody said, her voice choked with tears. "I can't imagine Father being one either. The only one he ever listens to is Mother."

Farrell stroked his sister's dark hair. "I have to admit, now I want to know the whole story."

"Why Farrell," Melody looked up at him, some of the usual spirit returning to her voice, "I thought you disapproved of breaking and entering."

"I do," he said solemnly. "I think we should speak with Mother and Father about it."

"What?" she exclaimed. "Admit that we broke into Uncle Varric's room and read his journal?"

Farrell's lips curved in a rare smile. "Perhaps not that part," he said.

**~ HAWKE ~**

It was such a pleasure being back at the lodge. In truth, it was the only place where she felt safe and at home. Hawke smiled to herself, thinking perhaps she actually liked it so much because it was the only place she was guaranteed privacy with Fenris. Being shipboard or staying at inns generally provided no such thing.

As if her thoughts conjured him, Fenris came up behind her where she stood cleaning her armor. That was another nice thing about the lodge, she could wear loose comfortable clothes, and as his arms snaked around her she could feel his embrace in the most delicious ways.

"A fine morning," he rumbled against her throat.

Hawke turned in order to return his embrace and noticed the twins had followed their father into the room. Melody looked fidgety and nervous, and Farrell's somber face was bordering on broody. The laughter died in her throat as she asked, "Is something wrong?"

Fenris turned to look at the twins as well, leaving one arm around her waist.

"We would like to speak with you," said Farrell.

Hawke felt a small thrill of anxiety in her breast. For years now they'd been watching the twins for any hint of magic, and so far other than being especially talented, bright children, there'd been no sign of it. Had that changed? She knew some children showed no signs of magic until late in childhood, and the twins were only eight years old.

Hawke was relieved when Fenris said, "Of course," and led them over to the sitting area on the other side of the room. She didn't think she could have found her voice.

The twins followed and once they were all sitting down, it was once again Farrell who spoke. He looked intently at his father as he said, "Melody and I have discussed it," he said glancing briefly at his sister, "and we believe it is time you told us the truth."

Hawke bit her lip to keep from smiling at Farrell's oh-so adult way of speaking. He'd always been this way, since he could first talk. She also felt a wash of relief because she was suddenly sure this talk wasn't going to be about magic.

"The truth?" Fenris asked and he frowned. "We have never lied to you."

"Omission may not be a lie, but neither is it the truth," Farrell said, his voice confident and sure.

"Of what omission are you speaking?" Fenris nearly growled.

Hawke had the sudden image of what Farrell would be like when he came into manhood - so like his father, and yet unburdened by the brutality of Fenris' past. Although her husband had laid his demons to rest long ago, he could never erase the physical reminders of what had been done to him. His son would have every advantage of his father's strength and loyalty without the bitter residue slavery had left on Fenris. Even as she wondered about what Farrell meant by _omission_, she felt a surge of love and pride for her son; but when he spoke, her heart began a rapid beat in her chest.

"Where did you get those markings, Father?" asked Farrell.

Hawke felt Fenris stiffen beside her.

Then Melody added, "And what happen in Kirkwall?"

Fenris looked at her then, and Hawke could practically read his thoughts. For years they had discussed this moment and what they would say to the children. They had hoped to wait a few more years, but as she met Fenris' gaze, she saw the understanding in his eyes that the moment had now come.

Fenris took her hand and leveled his steady gaze upon the twins. In a clear and calm voice he said, "When I met your mother, I was a slave running from my former master…."

And so it began.

**~ THE TWINS ~**

Later that day, Melody and Farrell sat on a flat mossy rock on the edge of the stream that came running down from the mountains. Had they known it, their parents had once sat on this same rock as Hawke confirmed to Fenris that she was indeed pregnant.

Melody threw a pebble in the stream. "Why did they have to stop at the exciting part?" she complained.

"They promised to tell us what happened in the Deep Roads tonight," replied Farrell. "You heard Mother, Uncle Varric will want to have a say."

"It's all so romantic," sighed Melody as she rested her elbows on her knees and cupped her face with her hands.

"I can't see how being a slave could be described as romantic," Farrell chastised his sister.

"Not that," said Melody, peering up at Farrell with an uncharacteristic frown. "Never that."

"Think of it," said Farrell. "If Father hadn't escaped, we would have never been born."

"He's the bravest," said Melody. "There's no one braver."

"Except Mother," said Farrell.

**FROM THE JOURNAL OF VARRIC TETHRAS**

Tonight I got to tell one of my favorite stories – The Deep Roads Expedition. It's a shame Cassandra stole the book where I'd recorded Hawke's heroic deeds– there was a really good version in there.

Wasn't I surprised, however, when I was asked by Hawke and Fenris to tell the story to the twins? Why yes, I was.

After the evening meal we all gathered on the porch for a night of storytelling. It's always funny to watch as the fireflies start gathering around my little Sparrow. Oh, Sparrow is my name for Hawke's daughter Melody, in case you were wondering. She and her brother Farrell were the most attentive of listeners as I spun my tale about dragons and ogres - darkspawn and betrayal.

"Wait!" Sparrow interrupted me during a critical plot point. "He locked you in there?" To die?" She was so upset that her words sounded like the prelude to a song. I think she's got the most beautiful voice I've ever heard.

"Hehe," I chuckled. "Don't worry Sparrow. You can see we all made it out alive." I gestured to her parents and myself.

"What about Blondie?" asked Farrell. That made me kind of sad to hear Blondie's name on the lips of Hawke's son. He should have known these two – he would have loved them despite who their daddy is.

"Blondie, too," I replied. Then proceeded to carry on about the dozens of profanes and shades, not to mention a Hunger Demon and a Rock Wraith. Those kids were certainly spellbound.

"Mama did that?" asked Sparrow as I described how her mother had leapt into the air and delivered the killing blow to the Rock Wraith. Suddenly Hawke was 'Mama' again instead of 'Mother' – hehe.

Fenris spoke up then. He'd been sitting there watching the expressions on the twins' faces, apparently enjoying himself. After all these years it still surprises me to see the elf happy. He said very simply, "She did." There's something that hasn't changed, over the years – the way the elf looks at Hawke, just like he did right then.

Melody and Farrell were looking at all three of us pretty much awe-struck, which is my favorite thing to see while I'm telling a good story.

"What happened after you returned?" asked Farrell.

Hawke said, "That, my darlings, is for another night."

Hawke and Fenris went off to put the twins to bed, but I stayed outside sitting and thinking. There's one thing I didn't mention to them. This morning I noticed the position of my journal on the shelf had changed – ever so slightly. Those two little urchins had picked the lock to my room and stolen a peek.

I was so proud of them I could have burst…


	4. Sometimes Magic Happens

**SOMETIMES MAGIC HAPPENS**

_A/N Hawke's family returns to Starkhaven from Ferelden via Ostwick._

**Chapter 1:**

Bethany paced the length of the corridor, a worried frown creasing her brow. She desperately wanted to talk to Mari.

It had been a long, difficult week and her only hope of relief was that her sister would help her figure out what to do. Bethany knew she was being a coward. She should have just come out with it. Sebastian was no tyrant, he was a loving, reasonable man – her husband of over nine years and in all of that time she'd never been afraid of him - not once. Until now.

To be fair, it wasn't Sebastian himself she was afraid of, it was his reaction to the secret she now held in her heart. Two secrets, actually. The first secret was one she looked forward to sharing – had only put if off because of what had happened this week. The Maker had finally fulfilled their fondest wish and blessed them with another child. She stopped her pacing and rested her hand on the very slight swell of her belly and for a moment happiness flooded through her. Six long years of waiting and their prayers had finally been answered.

There was a commotion on the stairway leading up to the royal suite and suddenly the twins were running toward her, shouting "Aunt Bethy!" she knelt and wrapped her arms around them as they peppered her face with kisses.

"My how you've both grown," she said, holding them at arms length to get a good look at them. Melody was old enough now at eight that Bethany remembered Mari at this same age. She was the spitting image of her mother, who Bethany had always love best in the world until Sebastian and then Malcolm had filled her life and her heart. Farrell's usually somber face was split in a wide grin, obviously proud at having grown so tall. He was, in fact, taller than his sister now, and though he did resemble Fenris, she thought she also saw a hint of her own father in him, especially in that smile.

"Where's Malcolm?" asked Farrell as he peered over her shoulder down the corridor.

"In his room," she replied, and laying a kiss on each of their cheeks said, "Off you go."

The twins scampered down the hallway to find their cousin while at the top of the stairway Mari and Fenris appeared. She also heard Varric's voice from further down say, "Andraste's ass, I hate stairs."

Bethany held her arms out and practically ran to her sister. They embraced for long moments before Mari pulled away and studied her face. "Is something wrong?" she asked.

Bethany barely shook her head before turning to her brother-in-law. "It's good to see you looking so well, Fenris," she said with a smile.

Fenris kissed Bethany on the cheek and said, "Always a pleasure to see you, Bethany."

Finally Varric caught up to them. "Sunshine!" he exclaimed, and of course there was more hugging and kissing.

"I have tea waiting," Bethany said and led them into the parlor.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

Hawke sat through all the pleasantries of having tea with apparent composure, but she was impatient to speak to her sister alone. Despite her smiles and her talk of her family and her work at the Circle, Hawke knew Bethany was troubled. Actually, more than troubled – Hawke could feel her sister's fear coming off her in waves.

The children came trampling into the parlor demanding their share of the cake sitting on the sideboard. Malcolm came over and pressed a kiss to Hawke's cheek. "Hello Aunt Mari," he said and then bowed. For a moment he looked so formal and polished, Hawke bit her kip to keep from laughing. He really did resemble Sebastian in many ways, but was graced with Bethany's dark hair and eyes. Quite the handsome little man. Malcolm greeted Fenris and Varric before rushing off to join the twins and the cake.

"Where is Sebastian?" asked Hawke, and could see her sister's blush.

"He's with Aveline inspecting the Guard," replied Bethany. "They'll join us for dinner later."

Hawke was done with waiting. That blush – what did it mean? She would speak to her sister alone and the sooner the better. She caught Fenris' eye and let him know with a glance what she intended. He nodded in ascent that he would look after the children.

"Sister," said Hawke as she rose from her seat, "perhaps you would help me unpack?"

Bethany blushed again, but only said, "Of course."

What was going on? Hawke intended to find out.

In the privacy of the guest suite, Hawke came straight to the point. "Out with it," she said as she grasped her sister's hand. Bethany suddenly looked as if she might cry.

"Do you want the good news or the bad news first?" she asked, and there was definitely a tremble in her voice.

"You know me," said Hawke, "get the worst over with."

Bethany nodded. "Oh Mari, I don't know what to do." Her grip tightened on Hawke's hand.

"Whatever it is, you know I'm with you, Sister."

Again, Bethany nodded and now the tears came. "It's Malcolm," she said.

"Is he ill?" she asked. He'd look perfectly fine a few moments ago.

"No, not ill. It's just that… Oh Mari, Malcolm is a Mage," Bethany said on a sob.

Instead of feeling upset as her sister most definitely was, Hawke only felt confused. Why would this upset her sister so much? Surely she'd always known Malcolm becoming a Mage was always a possibility. Hawke wiped the tears streaming down her sister's face with the sleeve of her shirt. "Sister," she said soothingly, "This can't be a complete surprise to you."

Bethany choked out a laugh. "No, of course not," she said. "It's just that… that…"

Hawke thought perhaps she understood some part of Bethany's distress and said, "Malcolm will not be an apostate. He won't have to spend his life running from Templars as you once did."

Bethany nodded. "I know and I am grateful," she said and struggled to regain her composure.

"Then what?" asked Hawke.

"It's Sebastian," she replied after a pause.

"Sebastian?" Is he angry?" asked Hawke. She could imagine her brother-in-law being concerned that the future ruler of Starkhaven would be a Mage, but Sebastian loved his family more than rules and laws or the whole of his princedom put together.

"He doesn't know," Bethany admitted softly.

"What? Sister, why haven't you told him?" asked Hawke.

"I'm… I'm afraid," Bethany answer, her tears flowing again.

Hawke moved closer to her sister on the small sofa they shared. "You're torturing yourself," she said as she put an arm around Bethany's shoulders. "You must tell him quickly. Sebastian cannot be blind to the possibility that his son would have magic."

"The older Malcolm became without showing signs of magic, the happier Sebastian has been. He used to worry constantly," Bethany replied through her fresh tears.

"What is it you are really afraid of?" asked Hawke. "Sebastian loves Malcolm. He loves you. You should be facing this together."

"I know," Bethany said and looked up at Hawke with pleading eyes. "Will you be with me when I tell him?" she asked.

"Are you sure that's wise?" asked Hawke. "It seems a private matter…"

Bethany took a deep breath. "You're not only his sister, you're also his dear friend. He trusts you. Please, Mari, I cannot do this alone."

Hawke wasn't sure what was really going on with her sister, but she nodded her agreement. "But we must talk to him tonight." As Hawke wiped at her sister's face again she said with a wry smile, "I think I need the good news now."

The transformation on her sister's face was immediate. Her eyes shone with happiness and a wide smile graced her pretty face. "I'm pregnant," she simply said.

"Bethany!" Hawke exclaimed and wrapped both arms around her sister.

Her sister's laughter washed away the tension and suddenly they were both laughing and hugging each other.

They sat together for a long time, talking of the new baby, of whether is would be a boy or a girl – what name they might choose – Bethany shyly admitting she'd like a daughter. Suddenly a new thought occurred to Hawke.

"Does Sebastian know?" she asked.

Bethany shook her head and grinned sheepishly. "No," she admitted.

"Oh sister," said Hawke with her own shake of the head.

"I'll tell him tonight, I promise," she said.

"That conversation you _will_ have alone with your husband," said Hawke.

Bethany giggled. "Thank you, sister. What would I do without you?"

Hawke sighed, but the tone of her voice was teasing, "Apparently you'd worry yourself into an early grave."

**Chapter 2: **

Melody raced down the hall, beating Farrell to Malcolm's door by inches. Her brother might be taller, but she was faster. Melody stuck her tongue out at him, but as always, he did not take the bait. Instead he smiled at her and reached past her to twist the doorknob. She had to admit there was something comforting in that no matter what she did, Farrell was never angry with her.

The cousins hadn't seen each other for six months, so even though they rushed into the room where Malcolm sat whittling a fist-sized chunk of wood, there was an awkward moment when they all just stared at each other. She noticed that Malcolm was nearly as tall as Farrell now, though he was two years younger.

"Hello Malcolm,' Melody finally said. It came out more singsong than she liked, and she bit her bottom lip. It was a habit she'd developed to remind herself not to be always singing.

Farrell followed quickly with, "What are you doing?"

Malcolm tossed the wood aside and slipped the knife into a sheath at his belt as he stood. Melody giggled at the smug look on her cousin's face. Oh, he knew he was a Prince, all right.

"Father is teaching me to carve," he said in a bored voice, but then his eyes lit up and he motioned for them to come closer. The twins approached warily.

"Can you keep a secret?" Malcolm asked, and now the bored pretense was gone from his voice and he sounded excited.

Melody loved secrets and immediately nodded her head vigorously.

Farrell, however, asked, "What kind of secret?"

Melody punched him in the arm and said, "Far-rell."

"The best kind of secret," said Malcolm with a sly grin.

He lifted his hand and Melody gasped as a tiny ball of orange flame formed in his open palm.

Farrell said in a breathless voice, "You have magic."

She wasn't sure why, but Melody suddenly felt a tinge of jealousy. Mother and Father had warned the twins many times that they should watch for any hint of magic, and that they must tell their parents right away if it appeared.

Malcolm looked smugger than ever as he closed his hand and the flamed vanished. "I nearly set my bed on fire the first time it happened," he said and sounded very pleased with himself, as if burning down his bedroom was a task anyone should envy.

"Do Aunt Bethy and Uncle Sebastian know?" asked Farrell seriously.

"Only Mother," replied Malcolm. "She said she would tell Father, but so far she hasn't."

"Magic," sang Melody and bit her lip again before going on in her normal voice. "Think of all the things you can do!"

Malcolm's grin grew wider and his expression lost its pompous air. "I'll start my studies at the Circle soon," he said sounding much more like the six year old boy he actually was.

"But what of demons?" asked Farrell. "Aren't you afraid?"

"Why should I be afraid of demons?" asked Malcolm.

"Demons seek out Mages," said Farrell.

"Farrell, stop," said Melody and she pulled on his arm. Sometimes her brother didn't understand that other people weren't like him. Farrell read books and studied and knew so many things that even Melody didn't understand. She turned to Malcolm. "Aunt Bethy knows everything about magic, Malcolm. She's a powerful Mage."

Malcolm's face cleared at the mention of his mother. "She made a cake to have with tea," he said.

Within seconds the three children were off in search of cake.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

"Bethany, I'm really not sure about this," said Mari as they walked down the corridor to Sebastian's study. "Fenris certainly wouldn't approve if the situation were reversed."

Bethany turned to her sister and, as she had done so many times before, wished that she had half of Mari's courage. "I don't think I can do this alone," she said.

When her sister tugged at her arm and pulled her over to a bench along the wall, Bethany didn't resist. They sat close together, and Mari tucked an arm around her waist.

"Tell me why you are afraid of one of the kindest men I've ever met," said Mari. "And don't hand me the line about him being happy Malcolm showed no signs of magic, it doesn't wash."

"Magic is a stain on a bloodline," she whispered to Mari. "Mother's family rejected her when she married Father."

"Is that really what's troubling you?" asked Mari. "Because, sad as it is, Sebastian has no family to reject you."

Bethany wrung her hands in her lap. "Magic is dangerous, it must be contained, watched… feared," she said, and her mouth went dry while at the same time cold fingers of fear trailed down her spine.

Her sister's eyes widened. "Is this what you've been teaching the children at the Circle?" asked Mari.

"What?" Bethany exclaimed, startled from her thoughts by the direct question. "No, of course not."

"It sounds like leftover propaganda from your time in Kirkwall," Mari suggested. And then she asked, "Are you ashamed of your magic, Sister?"

"I don't… I don't want Malcolm to carry the stigma of magic," Bethany admitted. "People will hate him, they will fear him, even if he's the best Mage in all of Thedas."

"This isn't about Sebastian at all, is it?" Marie asked. "It's about you."

"Why couldn't he be like you? Like Melody and Farrell?" she said in a harsh whisper. "Why couldn't he be _normal_?"

When Mari laughed, Bethany pulled away and began to rise from the bench. How could her sister laugh at her? Mari's hand clasped on her wrist and she said, "You think I'm normal, Bethany? Really? Me?" and there was that irresistible smile on her face.

Bethany slumped back onto the bench and shook her head. "I suppose not," she said with a rueful grin.

"Malcolm will have the advantage of the best training, parents who love him, and the privilege that being Prince of Starkhaven will bring him," said Mari. "You're job is to make sure he knows the dangers and has the skills to combat them, not to protect him from them."

"You're right. Of course you're right, you always are," said Bethany.

"No, not always," said Mari and the pain that crossed her face reminded Bethany of how much they had both lost. Bethany took her sister's hand. "I'll go to talk to Sebastian," she told her sister. "Alone."

Mari nodded and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "Once begun is half done."

Bethany took a deep breath, rose from the bench and continued down the hall to see her husband.

**Chapter 3: **

Sebastian placed his scrawling signature at the bottom of the last letter and dropped his pen carelessly in the inkwell. He really did miss his days of adventuring with Hawke. Ruling Starkhaven could be so… tedious. He rubbed a hand across his tired eyes and pushed away from his desk. Time to seek out his wife. He often felt as if it weren't for his family, his life would be nothing but the tedium of bureaucracy.

Just as he rose from his seat, the door to his study opened and his reason for being walked through the door. His heart immediately lifted as he approached Bethany with his arms open. It wasn't until she was tucked so wonderfully against him that he noticed the faint tremors in her slim form.

Sebastian pulled away to peer down at her face. "What's troubling you, my love?" he asked.

Her tremulous smile did nothing to ease his concern. "Are you well? Is it Malcolm?" he asked in quick succession.

"I am well," she replied, though he did think her complexion was rather pale. "But yes, I do need to speak with you about Malcolm," she finished.

Sebastian smiled. "Did he pull all the blossoms from the peonies again?" he asked with a chuckle.

"Nothing quite so simple," Bethany replied. "Can we sit down?"

Sebastian led her over to the armchairs by the fireplace. "Now," he said, still smiling, "What has our boy done this time?"

"He hasn't done anything," Bethany said looking down at her hands.

Sebastian reached over and lifted her chin with his fingers. When he saw the tears gathering in her eyes he moved from his chair and knelt down before her. "Whatever it is, love…" he began.

"Malcolm is a mage!" Bethany blurted, and the tears began to fall.

At her words, Sebastian's stomach lurched and a coppery taste filled his mouth. His son. A _mage_. He had hoped… But no, looking at the distress so apparent on his wife's face, he quickly composed himself.

"Bethany, my love, we always knew this was a possibility," he said as calmly as he could manage, even though his heart was beating out a quick rhythm.

"I'm so sorry," Bethany said in a low, sad voice. "It's my fault. I've passed this accursed magic onto our son."

"Magic is both blessing and curse," said Sebastian. "It is the integrity and courage of the person who wields such power that makes the difference."

"You're being kind because you love us," she said miserably as she turned her head away.

Sebastian found he could not tolerate his wife's eyes filled with such sorrow. He would not have her abusing herself and Malcolm both. If they were to raise their son properly, Bethany must overcome the shame and the guilt that plagued her because she was born a mage through no choice of her own.

In a stern voice he said, "Princess Vael."

Her eyes flew to his. "Sebastian?"

Sebastian stood then and looked down at his beloved wife. He knew that no amount of kindness would wake her up from her self-degradation. She must see the truth and he was perfectly capable of showing it to her. "How can you, after all the good you have done – for your family, for Starkhaven and for the Circle – how can you be less than proud of yourself and your magic?"

"I… what?" she stammered.

"How could you possibly think to instill this sense self-loathing upon your own son? Where is your respect? Your pride? Your _honor_?" Even as he watched her lower lip begin to tremble, he did not relent. "You are Princess of Starkhaven, a valued member of the Circle, a good mother and you are my _wife_." He took her hand and pulled her to her feet. "How can you not see in yourself what I see in you?"

Bethany met his eyes fully for the first time since she'd entered the room. Sebastian felt the strong conviction within his breast and he allowed the tremendous pride he felt for her shine through his eyes. He softened his voice as he told her, "How could you think that the woman I love more than my own life is cursed or tainted by something that is as natural to her as breathing?"

"What is best in me," whispered Bethany.

"Your heart is what is best in you, my love," he said. "And it is your heart that guides your magic. It has since the day I first met you."

"Malcolm…" she began.

Sebastian interrupted her. "Malcolm will look to you as the example of what a Mage should be. Would you have him feel cursed? Hate himself?"

"No," she said. "I would not."

Sebastian was encouraged by the new strength in her voice. "You have taken up the role of Princess with grace and dignity," he said. "I would see you do the same with your magic."

For long moments their gazes held, and Sebastian could see the effect his words, his confidence were having upon her. The light returned to her eyes and her cheeks flushed with color. Finally, a small smile curved her lips.

"Perhaps," she said, "I have done _something_ right in my life to deserve such a fine husband."

"It is I who thank the Maker every day for bringing you to me," he told her as he cupped her cheek in his hand.

Bethany laughed. "Wasn't it Mari who brought you to me?"

Sebastian grinned. "Such blasphemy from those perfect lips," he said.

"Mmmm, perfect are they?" she whispered, and the husky tone in her voice sent a shiver up his spine.

"Yes," he replied as he leaned in close to her. "I want to taste them."

Bethany slowly ran her tongue over her bottom lip. "I assure you, they taste as they have always done."

"Exactly why I want to taste them now," he murmured.

And then he did.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

Melody looked around the room. Everyone had gathered together in the sumptuous parlor to hear Farrell play his lute to her song. She was nervous, and as she glanced at the sea of faces, she felt her courage falter. Even Aveline and Donnic had come for their performance.

The worst part was that tonight she would sing the song she and Farrell had been working on – a song they had written themselves. They'd begun not long after they'd learned the story of how their parents met. It wasn't until she glanced at Varric and he winked at her that her stomach began to settle. Uncle Varric would never let them make fun of her. He'd pull out Bianca and show them who was boss. After all, he had helped with the words just a little bit. Well, maybe a lot.

Farrell began to play the first soft notes, and they floated through the room with such beauty her spirits began to lift. She drew in her breath and move into the place inside of her that was her song. She felt it rise within her before it left her lips, and the sound as it emerged seemed to fill all the corners of the room.

_He came to the city_

_The city of chained ones_

_The slave who chose to be free._

_He knew he was hunted_

_But he would defy them_

_His death or his life it must be._

_It was there that he found her_

_Her eyes looked inside him_

_She pierced his soul from the first._

_He'd thought he was broken_

_It was her love that healed him_

_The fierce warrior finally emerged._

_Long years did they struggle_

_Side by side fought together_

_Never once did she lead him astray._

_He ran but she followed_

_He raged and she soothed him_

_Until he believed she would stay._

_Fierce warrior and Champion_

_The elf and the human_

_The two who were destined as one._

_Their story is legend_

_Their love is unending_

_Under stars, beneath moon and the sun._

As Melody's song and Farrell's lute sounded the last note, she felt them merge in the air together, until they were one new sound. Suddenly she felt as if she could lift her arms and fly, that she was made of the same stuff as the song and could move and swirl in the air with the vibrations of sound.

When at last the note ended and silence enveloped the room, no one moved or spoke. Melody felt her gaze drawn to her parents where they sat, her father's arms wrapped around Mother, her head on his shoulder and tears streaming down her face. Suddenly she knew, with all her heart she knew, that someday she would love someone the way her parents loved each other. It was no child's understanding, but the surety, the unwavering determination of her mother's daughter. Melody's true heart awoke in that moment, and the journey of her life had begun.

**Chapter 4: **

_**Night Scenes**_

"Papa?" sang Melody as Fenris pulled the light blanket up to her chin, just the way she liked it. By her tone he knew she wanted to talk and he sat down on the edge of her bed.

"Yes, Melody mine?" he asked her, and smoothed the fine, dark hair from her brow.

Melody giggled. She loved it when he called her that. He suppressed his smile and peered down at her seriously.

"Did you really like the song?" she asked.

"You know that I did. I have told you so," he replied.

"It didn't bother you that I sang about you being a slave?" she asked with worried eyes.

"No. It did not," he told her. "It was beautiful and it was true, just as you are."

Melody smiled. "Papa?" she said again, her eyelids drooping.

"Mmmm?" he murmured.

"Does everyone find their one true love?" she asked.

The question startled him and it took him a moment to respond. His thoughts had flown ahead to the time when Melody would leave him. He could not bear that thought now.

What could he say to her? He did not know the answer, but he doubted that everyone did find his or her one true love. He was very fortunate in a way that he never ceased to be grateful for. Instead of answering he gently asked, "Why does this concern you?"

Melody opened her eyes fully and looked up at him. His singing, laughing girl wore the most somber expression he had ever see on her face. She said, "After the song, when I looked at you and Mama together, something funny happened inside me."

"Funny?" he asked, somewhat alarmed, but keeping his voice calm for her.

Suddenly her lilting voice was fierce. "I will find my one true love. I know I will."

Fenris felt his concern ease. Here was his beloved Hawke's daughter, with her mother's true heart. "I have no doubt of it," he said, placing a soft kiss on her cheek. "Sleep now," he said in a low growl.

Melody kissed him back and settled beneath the covers again. "Love you, Papa," she said.

"I love you too, Melody mine."

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

"I think that went well," Bethany said as she began to undress for bed. "Malcolm seems excited to begin his lessons at the Circle."

"I have no doubt he will excel," replied Sebastian, though he was somewhat distracted by his wife's pale skin as she removed her robes. "He is a good lad."

"He is," she agreed, smiling, "very much like his father."

Sebastian could stand it no longer and encircled his wife's slim waist with his hands. "I feel like celebrating," he said and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

Bethany's smile widened as she replied, "As do I, but there's one more thing I must tell you."

"Cannot it wait?" he asked and this time tasted the pulse beating at her throat.

Bethany giggled. "No it cannot," she said as she reached up and cradled his face in her hands. "Sebastian…" she began.

There was a light shining in her dark eyes and his heart skipped a beat. "What is it, my love?" he asked.

She took his hand and placed it on the soft curve of her belly. "I am with child," she said, beaming at him.

"Bethany!" he exclaimed and wrapped her in his arms. He held onto her fiercely as he said, "Bethany, my love, this is wonderful!" He lifted her into the air and spun her around, making her squeal in delight.

He slowly lowered her down the length of his body until they were pressed together in the most delicious way. "Time to celebrate," he said as he captured her mouth.

His only reply was Bethany's soft moan.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

That night, Melody dreamed.

She was deep in a forest so thick that she often had to shift sideways to make her way through the trunks of the trees. Hanging vines tangled in her hair and the ground underfoot was rocky and treacherous as she struggled up the steep incline. Where was she? Was she climbing a mountain?

It felt like she climbed forever, that there would be no end to this cloistering forest and she would spend the rest of her life constantly moving but going nowhere. The only thing she knew to do was to keep following the ground upward, because the canopy above her was so thick she could not see the sky. Neither sunlight nor moonlight would penetrate the thick growth.

When at last the gloom of the forest began to lift and she could see milky light shimmering in the distance, she increased her pace. Twice she fell in her hurry, and by the time she emerged from the wooded prison she was limping. The clearing was a round grassy bowl, and in the center were three standing stones that formed a rough triangle. She saw no path leading to or from this place, only sentinel trees standing in row upon row all around her. Above her shone the cold, round moon casting its mystical light on the clearing.

A glint of reflected moonlight caught her eye and her gaze returned to the stones. A pair of eyes were peering at her from amid the tall, rough pillars. They shone with a blue light that Melody found entrancing and they seemed to compel her feet to move her forward. As she came closer she saw that the eyes belong to a wolf. A large grey wolf sitting on its haunches silently watching her approach.

"The daughter of the wolf and the hawk," it said, and Melody could hear the words and the growl both at once. "Where is the son, I wonder?"

"Farrell?" she asked.

And from behind her she heard Farrell's voice, "Melody!" he said. She turned and watched as her brother pushed through the trees and came to stand beside her.

She grasped his hand tightly and said, "Where are we Farrell?"

"In the Fade," he began but the voice of the wolf spoke again, interrupting him.

"As it should be, the son and the daughter together," it said.

"Why are we here?" asked Farrell. His voice was strong with no hint of the fear Melody felt clenching her stomach. "Are you a demon?"

A low growling chuckle sounded in her ears. "I am no demon," he said. "I am Fen'Harel."

"Who?" asked Melody.

Farrell squeezed her hand and said, "The Dread Wolf."

_**Chapter 5:**_

"Yes," said Fen'Harel, "I have been called by that name." The wolf rose and took a step toward them. "You ask me why you are here? I ask you, why were you were born?"

"That's not an answer," said Farrell impatiently.

"The answer to both questions is the same," said Fen'Harel.

Farrell's lack of fear was beginning to rub off on Melody. Emboldened, she said, "If you know the answer, why don't you tell us?"

The wolf bared his teeth. "Clever girl," he said. "The answer is simple: Because it was fated."

Farrell frowned in that way he had and Melody knew he was thinking hard. Sometimes she thought her brother must be the smartest person in Thedas. He certainly read enough books that he should be, anyway.

"And you know everyone's fate?" Farrell finally asked.

Fen'Harel laughed. "I am a god."

"You are the Trickster," said Farrell. "Why should we believe anything you say?"

The wolf's eyes burst into blue flame and once again he bared his teeth in a snarl. "You shouldn't," he replied.

"Then what's the point?" asked Melody in her singsong voice. She bit her lip to stop the song before continuing. "Why bring us here?"

"Have I brought you here?" Fen'Harel mused. "Or is some other power at work?"

When Farrell spoke next, he sounded so much like Papa that Melody's head jerked in surprise. "If you have something to say, out with it," he demanded.

Fen'Harel was silent for long moments and Melody shifted her stance restlessly, wondering if Farrell had gone too far. Her brother's grip on her hand tightened briefly.

"Perhaps it is as your sister said. Perhaps there is no point," Fen'Harel growled. "Or perhaps the fate of the world rests in your hands." The wolf sat back on its haunches. "Perhaps both," he finished with an apparent shrug.

The air around them began to shift and shimmer.

"Time will reveal and time will obscure," Fen'Harel's voice was fading as he spoke and was beginning to sound as if it came from down a deep well. "The children of the hawk and the wolf will stand forth..."

The scene was dissolving before her and Melody felt as if she were suddenly falling. "Farrell!" she screamed when she could no longer feel her brother's hand in hers.

She sat up in her bed, his name still on her lips, and he was rushing to her side. "Farrell," she said again and reached for him. His arms went around her and she held on to him tightly. "Was it real?" she asked him.

Farrell nodded. "It was," he replied. "We need to tell Mother and Father."

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

Hawke paced the length of the room, her thoughts in turmoil. Why would her children dream of the Dread Wolf? The only thing she knew about the Dalish god was from what Merrill had told her so long ago. "Merrill!" she said aloud. "We need to find her," Hawke said as she turned to Fenris.

Her husband sat on Melody's bed, an arm around each of the children, who were watching her with wide eyes. Fenris nodded and said, "I will write to Varania, as well."

"Yes," replied Hawke. "That's good, write to your sister." She stopped her pacing and knelt before the twins. "Tell me again what he said to you."

Slowly and carefully, Farrell repeated their experience in the Fade.

"What did he mean, _other forces_?" mused Hawke. "What other forces?"

"Perhaps the Maker?" suggested Fenris. "I know little of the gods. I have often doubted their existence at all."

Hawke had her doubts as well, but this new turn of events had her rethinking that position. Suddenly, a new thought occurred to her. "Last night… the song…" she said and her gaze locked with Fenris. "You felt it, too."

"Yes, as did Melody," he replied.

"Farrell?" asked Hawke.

Her son nodded. "Something happened," he said. "It felt… it felt powerful." He shrugged his slight shoulders.

Melody chimed in. "First I felt like I could fly, then I knew…" She hesitated and bit her lip.

Hawke took her daughter's hand. "What did you know, my darling?" she asked.

Melody glanced up at her father, who nodded. "I knew that someday I would love someone the way you and Papa love each other," she said shyly.

_True Heart_, thought Hawke and felt tears sting her eyes. She looked at Fenris.

"_Vir Adahlen_," he said softly.

Together we are stronger than one.

Could it be? Could it be possible that though individually the children were not mages, could it be that together they tapped into the magic of the Fade? She's never heard of such a thing, but how could they know? How could they find out?

She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Melody's forehead, and reached her hand out to Farrell, who gripped it tightly. "It's going to be all right," she said and found a smile for them and then glanced at Fenris. "We'll make sure of it."

Back in their own room, with the children tucked into their beds, Hawke sunk gladly into her husband's embrace. When finally she lifted her head to look at him, she said, "We need to begin training them."

"I agree," he replied.

"They're so young…" Hawke began.

"When did you first pick up a dagger?" Fenris asked her.

Hawke smiled ruefully. "My father gave me my first dagger when I was ten years old," she replied.

"Not so young, then," he said. "Perhaps we should ask for help."

"Help?" Hawke asked.

Fenris nodded. "We must train them properly, not only in blades and stealth, but also in bow and…" he hesitated. "Perhaps they should attend classes in the Circle, as well."

"Of course, Bethany will help," she said. "Varric and Sebastian… we should send for Isabela, too. She's a master at stealth."

"Gather the forces," he said. "If Melody and Farrell are threatened, we must give them the skills to protect themselves."

Hawke felt the tears well again. "They're my babies," she said softly.

Fenris cupped her face in his hands. "Do not fear, Hawke," he said. "They have your true heart."

She smiled and kissed him. "And their father's strong will."

"Hmm," he murmured and returned her kiss, and the passion began to build within her.

Fenris lifted her and carried her to the bed. "I think you need distracting," he told her as he began to peal away her shift.

Hawke slid her arms down his back and pulled him tightly to her. "And you are the most distracting person I know," she said with a sigh.

* * *

_**A/N The story of Melody and Farrell continues in "**_**Between Heaven and the Abyss."**

_**Thanks for reading!**_

_**wintry**_


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